


When I Close My Eyes

by monkey_and_music_lover



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, Philinda Secret Summer, song prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkey_and_music_lover/pseuds/monkey_and_music_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's only solace is his imagination when he closes his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Close My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinkerMel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinkerMel/gifts).



> Surprise!!! I hope you didn't know it was me, Sassmasterradagast, I did a few weird things on Tumblr like accidentally unfollow then follow you haha. Anyways!! I hope you like this fic and that it goes along with the song well enough. I'm not really sure it did but I made it as fluffy as I could ^^. And I'm glad you were able to get your own fic written!!! :D I can't wait to see it myself! 
> 
> Anyways, without further ado...
> 
> Enjoy~~

Two weeks.

           

That’s how long it had been since Melinda left for her vacation.

 

Well, if Phil wanted to be technical it has actually been one week, six days and twenty-two hours. She was due back later that evening so he had ten hours before she came waltzing back into the building to resume her position as his deputy director, best friend and, hopefully, secret girlfriend.

 

The way they had left things off before she left made Phil feel a little unsettled. They shared a few laughs and drinks with Andrew the days preceding her departure, but it wasn’t the same. Andrew had been there so the dynamic was off. And if it wasn’t Andrew it was someone else. It was Skye or Bobbi or Mack, even Hunter sometimes! Ever since he came back from running, they hadn’t really had any alone time. Or if they did, it was different. It was strange.

 

When they were alone, she was professional and curt. More often than not, she’d call him director and her posture was more guarded. He missed her occasional irritated, yet loving, ‘Phil’s, the way she rolled her eyes when he was being goofy or told a bad joke, her random commentary that was only meant for his ears that showed off her wit and humor. He missed _her_.

 

At first, he was ecstatic that she had asked for time off. In the two decades they’d known and worked together, she had never asked for a vacation. Suffice to say, it was well over due. He was more than happy to give her two weeks to decompress and relax, but he didn’t realize how much he truly depended on her until two hours after she left.

 

That day he and Skye had walked her to the car to exchange their farewells and watch her leave. He held back the urge to smirk when he noticed the Glock expertly concealed beneath her clothing. If she needed a gun she’d get one and she probably figured it was better safe than sorry.

 

The send-off was warm and positive, but with the younger agent there, Phil didn’t get a chance to check-in with May to make sure they were okay or to give her a discrete kiss goodbye. Instead they merely gave each other a nod, small smile, and she was on her way.

 

Once the car was out of sight, he and Skye parted ways to get their individual tasks done. Phil headed straight for his office where paperwork and a prosthetic hand catalogue awaited his review. But the second his butt hit the seat of his usually comfortable chair, something felt extremely off. He sat disturbed for several minutes before finally jumping to his feet and investigating his office for anything that might trigger his senses.

 

The emergency escape elevator was intact, his windows were latched and secured, his door didn’t have an indication of tampering and all his belongings were accounted for. Nothing was amiss and there wasn’t a single hair out of place. That was when he noticed it.

 

In the corner of his office, there was another, smaller desk that had papers scattered all over it just like his own and a chair. A very empty, very lonely, Melinda-less chair. That was what felt off. He was alone.

 

Normally, the silence didn’t bother him. Even when Melinda was there, it was quiet. He’d sometimes try to distract her from the mind numbing paperwork with meaningless conversations and an occasional dad-joke, but the most he’d get out of her when she was determined to minimize her pile was a firm, but warm, “Phil. Shut up.” And he missed that. Not to mention their _other_ distractions – a stolen kiss, a casual embrace, a quick romp.

 

At first he tried to ignore his longings for her company. Nothing _really_ changed after all. It was still quiet, there was still mind numbing paperwork and he would still try to make jokes… for no one to actually hear. That feeble attempt lasted a solid two hours.

 

Then he tried to fill the void.

 

First he invited Skye to work in his office. She was a bit taken aback, but had accepted nonetheless. They worked silent and separately for ten minutes before she began asking him her usually too many questions. He, for the most part, kept his patience and answered most of her inquiries, but after three hours of her probing he couldn’t take it anymore and went for a walk around the base. He loved Skye, he truly did. She was the closest thing to a daughter he had, but there was a certain amount of silence needed for paperwork to actually get completed and as much as he hated to do it, it did need to get done. Fortunately, when he got back from his stroll, his office was once again vacant and he was able to settle back into work.

 

The next day he tried seeing if he could work well with Fitz. Understanding that the boy needed his lab to work, especially trying to solve the disappearing Simmons dilemma, he decided to move some of his paperwork there.

 

However, after half an hour, he realized that he had the opposite problem of Skye with Fitz – the boy was _too_ quiet. He was very dedicated and focused on his own work so when Phil occasionally tried to crack a joke, start a conversation and break the silence, Fitz would inadvertently snap at him in stress and frustration.

 

Phil couldn’t really blame the poor kid, he felt bad for him. Jemma was to Fitz what Melinda was to him, and to have her suddenly disappear – eaten nonetheless – had to hurt. All he wanted to do now was support his underling and help bring home the other agent. So, he left.

 

Over the course of a week, Phil had tried working with all his various employees. Bobbi was still recovering, Hunter demanded solitude at Bobbi’s side and Mack was… well, it just didn’t work out. That’s when Phil found himself once more in deserted office with a void that couldn’t seemed to be filled, but did he really think it could be?

 

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Phil leaned back in his arm chair and closed his eyes in exhaustion. He found himself getting more and more comfortable and slowly drifting away. Before long, his mind began to wander to places he decidedly avoided and he saw her. His best friend, his partner, his… Melinda. There she was, hidden behind his closed lids, with her signature smirk and cocked brow. Rolling her eyes at him with any excuse he gave her to, but with the same admiration and adoration that’s always shined in her eyes.

 

As he daydreamed the return of his right hand – now his left he supposed – girl, the stress began to melt away. Everything began to feel okay again. And that’s how it started. For the next week and half, Phil would spend half an hour to an hour in his office just daydreaming and imagining the return of his closest companion. He dreamt of their reunion and his plans to make it up to her, to make everything okay for her again.

 

When he feeling especially morose and his longing exceeded its usual threshold, he thought about other things. Sometimes he’d reminisce about the old days, before Real SHIELD, before TAHITI, before Bahrain.

 

The first day they met, he was wearing his worn out Captain America t-shirt and she was in her black tank top and yoga pants. They ran into each other in the bathroom after his roommate stole his towel and left him with nothing but a shirt and jockstrap. She had the decency to withhold her laughter and let him borrow her roommate’s pink, fluffy bathrobe. When he returned it to her, she offered a suggestion of revenge on his roommate and from then he knew they’d be great friends.

 

Other times, he let himself imagine a world he hadn’t thought was possible until recently -- cooking dinner for her every night, falling asleep in each other’s arms, growing old…

 

Now he was lucky if she’d even spare him a side glance.

 

With a heavy sigh, Phil decided he’d daydreamt enough for that day. He travelled from the past to the potential present and to the future and as relieving as it normally was, it also saddened him whenever he’d have to leave his fantasy world.

 

When he opened his eyes, he resisted his instinct to jump in surprise. There standing at his door, eight hours earlier than expected, stood the very subject of his illusions. It took him a moment to realize he may have mumbled her name several times and he had no idea how long she’s actually been standing there. Heat rose to his cheeks as he noticed the small, knowing smirk that played on her lips.

 

“So how was your trip,” he asked after several seconds of silence had passed, “Miss me so much that you couldn’t wait another eight hours?”

 

“It was fun,” she shrugged simply, her lips staying curled. Closing the door behind her, she made her way over to him and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. “Took an early flight. Idleness doesn’t suit me.”

 

The small, but constant, smile she honored him with said all he needed to know and encouraged his own. They were going to be okay.

 

Without another word or gesture, she threw her jacket carelessly over the back of her usual seat as her eyes grazed over the pile of work that had accumulated during her vacation. Phil looked on sheepishly as he realized just how much work he _wasn’t_ getting done with her absence.

 

Melinda turned around with a cocked brow and motioned to the seemingly endless piles of paper.

 

“You got done less than you normally do when I’m here,” she said plainly with a hint of the irritation that he missed so much. “Do I really have to sit here and babysit you for you to get a decent amount of work done?”

 

Without waiting for a response, she sat down quietly mumbling with indignation and began going through the mounds of work on her desk.

 

“Well you know what they say,” he grinned, grateful that their old dynamic was slowly returning, “two is better than one.”

 


End file.
